A Dusty Ending
by DarkKnight1
Summary: An alternate take of the events at the end of 'Intervention'. Lots of angst, and definately not for Spike fans. You have been warned.


Title: A dusty ending

Title: A dusty ending

By: Socrates

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Joss owns all

Distribution: Just let me know where it's going.

Summary: An alternate version of the events at the end of "Intervention", though the event you think.

Dedication: To all the great BX authors out there, and to those who can put aside their shipper differences and establish common ground(Because I can't. BX forever!)

Feedback: Just don't flame me or I will be forced to banish you to the seventh circle of hell!

The sun shown brightly on the trio as they paused outside of an old stone crypt in the middle of one of Sunnydale's many cemeteries. The overall brightness outside contrasted greatly with the dark moods of the individual.

The even more pale then normal vampire clutched weakly at the blanket that shielded him from the sun with white knuckled grip. His thoughts dwelling on the actions of the past few days.

Spike was not sorry. No, to be sorry Spike would have to have a conscience, and to have a conscience he would have to first have a soul. Spike could no more regret his actions than a cat could regret messing on its owner's carpet. He didn't have the capacity to feel sorry for his actions. No, Spike was merely sorry that he got caught. Not to mention the fact, that the Buffy-bot was not the real Buffy.

He wanted Buffy, desired her in a way that he had desired no other. Spike felt drawn to her, as he had been to the two slayers that he had killed. Even now he could remember the way it felt as the Chinese girls blood had poured into his mouth, coating his fangs. Even now he could remember how it felt when he twisted the black girls neck, felt her bones snap under his fingers. These thoughts comforted him in his darkest hours, the way that an artisan could be comforted in a time of lost inspiration that he had once created a masterpiece.

Spike knew why he loved Buffy. It was all so damn simple. She beat him. It was that simple. Spike had spent centuries killing and raping, and he finally met one who he could not kill. He couldn't dominate her, and that was what he had really wanted all along.

Vampires were such sexual creatures, not just in their appetite for sex, but in the way that they stalked their prey. The entire process was rather like some bizarre mating ritual. From the way that they hunted their quarry, to how they presented themselves to their victim, right down to the way that they took their prey, dominating and finally destroying them.

Spike had wanted to dominate Buffy. And when he couldn't dominate her physically, he decided to do so emotionally.

What Spike felt for her was so much more than just love. It was an obsession. He needed her.

He did love her, there was no question of that. However, he knew that meant nothing. Humans could be so arrogant sometimes, claiming certain emotions as if they were the only ones who possessed them. Spike had been around for over one hundred years. In all that time, he had seen some of the greatest things accomplished out of love. He had also witnessed some of the worst atrocities, by human standards that is. Love is an emotion, pure and simple. Like laughter. Spike had watched and laughed with others of his kind while families were beaten and wives were raped in front of their husbands and children. He had shared a joke with a vampire, as a little girl was being gutted, mere feet away from him. Love did not mean good. Spike wanted to fuck Buffy and so he would play the repentant vampire, but he would just as easily rip her friends hearts out if that was what she wanted.

He was wearing down her defenses and he knew it. He would bide his time and act the part of the tormented monster. Then Buffy would be his.

That was all that mattered.

The thoughts of the young man supporting him were just as grim, yet for a different reason.

Xander couldn't get the image of his head. He tried and tried, but it wouldn't budge. Like a parasite latching onto a host, it would not be moved.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw her, leaning atop Spike. Kissing him. Loving him.

He knew these thoughts were irrational since it wasn't the real Buffy. Yet at the same time, it deeply scared him. Seeing them together had brought back all those painful memories of watching her and Angel kiss, hold hands. Touch each other. All the times he had forced down the wave of bile that rose in his throat at the sight of them. All the times he had to restrain himself from charging over and ripping them apart. From yelling at Buffy, condemning her for being so heartless and lifeless that she could love a vampire when she didn't love him. The nights he had spent in his room, beating his fists into the walls until they had bled. So as to give his mind something else to concentrate then the pain in his soul. How he had let the physical pain wash over him, embracing it greedily as a drowning man might hold onto a life preserver. Because that was what it was to him. A way to keep from drowning in the pain and sorrow of his life.

He played the fool to the others. He told stupid jokes and made himself look like an idiot. His motivations though were not carefree and good-natured as everyone thought. He did it so that he could pretend that the others were laughing with him, not at him. Sometimes it was so easy. He could almost believe that they really did care about him. Then one of them would roll their eyes at him in distaste or completely ignore him, or even worse insult him. That was when the shield would come up and he would deliver some self-depreciating comments and retreat back inside himself where no one could hurt him and he could believe, if only for a moment, that he was loved.

He knew they cared about him. They were concerned for his wellbeing. But they didn't respect him, and that hurt. They treated him much like one might treat a pet. They hung around him. They went to him for comfort. They even looked after him. But they NEVER listened to him. His comments and suggestions were treated like the ravings of a mad man, met with the tried and true 'sure Xan' and the ever popular 'shut up Xander.' 

All these thing s had deeply scarred him and turned him into a much darker person than anyone suspected. There was a chief difference between him and Angel though. Xander did not let his darkness rule him. He accepted it as a part of himself, a part that every human possessed. But he did not let it control him. He had perhaps more reason to be angry and hate filled than anyone else, but he was not.

Occasionally he would let a bit out, like the Acathla incident. True, he had done it for the good of the world, not to mention Buffy. But a part of him had done it to hurt Angel, to hurt Buffy, to hurt them all. To seek vengeance against those who seemed to care more for a two hundred-year-old vampire, than for him. He wanted to hurt Buffy, to scar her as deeply as he was scarred. Even now he did not regret his decision and even now he was not at all ashamed of his motives, any of them.

With time, he had grown to accept the way things were. He grew to deeply hate Buffy, but at the same time he still loved her. It was just easier to hate her for not loving him. If he accepted it, he felt as though some injustice had been done. Him despising her for not loving him, let him maintain the belief that she was in error. It didn't make sense, but then again, love never did.

He resolved to help and support her, while at the same time hating. A part of him believed that if he just kept helping her and being there for her, she would finally see all that he had done for her and maybe she could truly appreciate him.

For awhile, it seemed like she was. She was coming to him more and talking to him. He felt something between them, something that had perhaps always been there. He knew he had always loved her, but now he felt that she might love him as well.

He felt his hatred of her began to fade for the first time in years He almost reached the point where he no longer despised her.

Then it happened.

Her mother died and their closeness went away. He didn't hate her for being self involved about her mother's death. He hated her for not having the courage to fight back against the darkness as he had. He hated her for not being as strong as he is. Most of all, he hated her for making him fall in love with her.

Xander watched as the darkness consumed her, wanting to help but not being allowed to. He watched her start to let Spike in. It was very subtle and barely noticeable, but Xander saw it all, more than he wanted to.

He watched as she passed up opportunity after opportunity to stake him and end it. He watched her slipping and knew that eventually she would fold. She would take Spike into her bed and Xander would lose all respect for her. Hell, he might even kill her. Much like someone would put down a dog that had caught rabies. It would be a mercy killing and Xander knew that he would kill himself afterwards.

He could not allow that. He would not.

"Xander? Are you alright?" the voice of the British watcher Giles reached him through his musings.

"Huh? Oh, I'm fine G-man." He replied, putting on the expected smirk.

Giles, as usual, bought it. "Yes, well let's get him in then."

Xander stilled the watcher with a hand on his shoulder. "No need G-man, I got it."

The watcher eyed him skeptically, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, no prob. What's fangless here gonna do anyway, bleach me to death? I'll be fine."

Giles eyed him for a moment before nodding reluctantly, "Alright Xander. You take care of Spike and meet us back at the shop. We have much to discuss."

Xander nodded and waved him away. Taking hold of Spike with both hands, he hefted him through the door and into the crypt. Not bothering to be gentle, Xander tossed Spike onto the stone floor.

"Bloody hell wanker, a bit rough there." The blond vampire extricated himself from the blanket and stood unsteadily to regard Xander with a scowl.

"Shut up Spike." Xander coolly replied, eyeing the demon with a cold look.

"Spike." Xander said at length, "I want you to stay away from Buffy. I don't want to see you anywhere near her again. Is that clear."

Spike gave a snort. "I think the lady is capable of making her own decisions. She doesn't need you to tell her who she can hang out with."

Xander reached into his jacket and withdrew a thin wooden stake. "That's just it Spike. She can't. Buffy isn't capable of making those decisions right now. She is going through a very tough time and is emotionally vulnerable."

"And what are you mate, her guardian Angel?"

"Something like that."

An evil little smile crept onto Spike's face, "You know I will have her don't you?"

"Shut up!"

"She's not strong enough to resist me for long."  


"Shut up!"

"I can tell that she want's me. Deep down in the darkest recesses of her soul."

"Spike, I'm warning you!"

"Soon enough she'll be spreading her legs for me, just like she did for granddaddy Angelus."

Xander was beginning to lose it "Spike I swear-"

"Soon she'll be screaming my name. I can almost feel her wrapped around me right now." Spike leaned closer to Xander, "Can you?"

That did it. Something in Xander snapped. Letting out an inhuman growl, he grabbed Spike by the collar and flung him against the crypt wall.

"I said SHUT THE FUCK UP!" he screamed as he slammed Spike against the wall again. 

Gripping the stake hard enough to leave splinters, he raised it over his head and prepared to swing.

Spike caught the look in the young man's eye. "You can't do it can you. You can't kill me."

"Watch me!"

Spike leaned closer to Xander once more and whispered, "Can you live with yourself if you do this?"

Thinking back to a day many years ago, when he had met a blond, carrying a rock, Xander smiled a cold, inhuman smile.

"Yes I can."

The stake arced downward, splitting first the air, and then flesh. A silenced cry followed by a 'pop' A moment later, the stake clattered to the stone floor and was coated with a fine layer of dust.

Xander turned and walked out of the crypt into the afternoon sun.

"Is it weird?" Tara asked Buffy as Willow worked on the damaged Buffy-bot.

Buffy looked down at the duplicate slayer and sighed, "Oh yeah."

She left her place at the end of the table to sit next to the bot. "At least its not a very good copy." She attempted to reassure herself as she laid her head on the table and looked into its cold, lifeless eyes. "I mean, look at it."

Willow shared a nervous look with Tara. "Uh, yeah." She managed at length.

At the sound of the shops bell, Buffy lifted her head to see Xander and Giles enter the store. She eyed them expectantly.

"What did you do with Spike?" she questioned, "And please let this story have a dusty ending."

Xander looked her in the eyes…and smiled.

The End


End file.
